Free Hallowed: An Unearthly Novel by Cynthia Hand Page B

it.
    It’s like that movie Final Destination , where these people were supposed to die in a plane crash, but they got off the plane and so Death comes hunting them down, one by one, because they were supposed to die . I’ve been over the craziest scenarios, like: a) Tucker gets in a car wreck, b) he chokes on a piece of meat at dinner, c) he gets struck by lightning because it never ever stops raining, d) he slips and falls in the shower and drowns, or e) his house gets hit by a meteor. But what can I do about that? It’s not like I can be with him all the time. I did get so wigged out that I sneaked out to his house a couple times in the middle of the night to watch over him while he slept, just in case, I don’t know, his comic book collection decided to spontaneously combust.
    This was dumb and admittedly creepy in an Edward Cullen kind of way, but it was the only thing I could think to do. Thank God he’s not in rodeo anymore, since I don’t think I could bear to watch him try to ride a bull right now.

    So I’ve appointed myself his guardian. I’ve also picked him up for school every day this week and driven us there so slowly that he’s started teasing me about driving like a granny. He’s noticed, of course, that something’s wrong. Nothing ever slips by Tucker. Plus I am not being very subtle in my spazzing out about this boyfriend-destined-to-die thing.

    This morning, for example. We were sitting in the commons during breakfast break and there was this loud, sudden pop from the other side of the lunchroom, and I couldn’t help it. I moved fast, too fast, so fast that Mom would have freaked if she’d seen, putting myself between that noise and Tucker. Then I stood there, waiting, hands clenched at my sides, until I heard a few boys laughing at the doofus who had crushed a soda can under his foot—a soda can!—and now everybody in his group was congratulating him on his spectacular noise-making ability.

    And Tucker was looking at me. Wendy too, her bagel lifted halfway to her mouth.
    Everybody at my table, staring.

    “Wow,” I said breathlessly, trying to cover. “That scared me. People shouldn’t do that.”

    “Shouldn’t crush pop cans?” asked Wendy. “You’re pretty jumpy, don’t you think?”

    “Hey, I’m from California,” I tried to explain. “We had to go through metal detectors to get into the school.”

    Tucker was still looking at me, his eyebrows drawn together.

    Now as I watch him struggle through his test, I think about telling him. I could tell him and then there would be no secrets between us, no lies. It would be the honest thing. But it would also be a terrible thing. A selfish thing.

    Because what if I’m wrong? After all, I thought my last vision was telling me I was supposed to save Christian and wrong-o. It’s not the kind of news you want to deliver unless you are pretty freaking sure.

    But what if I’m right? Would I want to know if I was going to die?

    My eyes wander past Tucker, two rows over, to Christian. He too is already done with his test. He looks up, like he can feel my gaze on him. He gives me a faint smile that only lasts a few seconds. Then he glances at Tucker, who’s still frowning obliviously at his paper.

    Nice move in the cafeteria this morning, Christian says suddenly in my mind.

    He’s talking in my head! For a minute I’m too shocked to form a response. Can he tell what I’m thinking right now? Has he been reading my mind this entire time? I’m torn between the desire to answer him or to attempt to block him completely.

    Oh, you saw that? I answer finally, trying to push my words out to meet him the way I did when I talked with Mom that day in the forest, when we had an entire conversation in our heads.

    I can’t tell if he hears me. His eyes lock on mine.

    Are you okay?

    I look away. I’m fine.

    “Okay, pencils down,” says Mr. Anderson. “Bring your test to the front. Then you’re free to go.”

    Tucker scowls,